


The Saint Way

by TheDoeDuchess



Series: The Saint Way Trilogy [1]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 05:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19805452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoeDuchess/pseuds/TheDoeDuchess
Summary: After waking from a coma a few years since the events of Saints Row, Ricardo Valentine, the Leader of the 3rd Street Saints, finds his city in the hands of Ultor - a former high fashion clothing company turned corporate   overlord. Throwing himself back into the game, he enlists the help of his twin sister, Genn, and his best friend, Johnny Gat, among others to help resurrect the Third Street Saints. The Boss is back, and he refuses to give up Stilwater without a fight.





	The Saint Way

_Sometime ago in 2006..._

* * *

Thank god today was Friday. The end of a pretty eventful week, if Rick could say so himself.

The full, white moon was shining greatly down upon the ever-changing city of Stilwater. It seemed like it was around 9 or 10 PM, but who could really tell without the scream or gun shots in the distance? Music to the young man's ears as he cruised down the street, tapping his hand on the dashboard as he thought of what's happened these past few months. Ricardo Valentine had achieved the impossible feat of taking down all three of the toughest gangs in Stilwater: the Vice Kings, the Westside Rollerz, even the Los Carnales. All thanks to Julius Little and the 3rd Street Saints. From becoming an enforcer to second-in-command, Rick had earned respect from his fellow crew members, his boss, and earned the fear of every law enforcement officer in town.

A few days ago, however, Rick was contacted by Julius and was told that he would have to take care of the Saints as a cop car was on his tail. That was a week ago and, since then, no calls. Until he got one from the Chief of Police himself. Corrupted pig had the balls to tell him that, unless he hijacked Mayor Winslow's bus, Julius would stay in prison and Saints Row would have to pay for the damage Rick caused with a rock launcher. Killing a mayor to get Julius out of jail seemed like a pretty fair trade...Rick guessed. Wouldn't be the first would-be politician he killed (he doesn't talk about what he did to Darren Keats in 10th grade).

But then for that fuck Monroe to renege and try to keep him and the Saints on like some dogs on a leash? Oh, he had to go. And what better, poetic way to kill a prick that complained about rocket launchers than to kill that same prick WITH rocket launchers?

The problems should've ended there. But then, someone's always got a comment.

The phone call from Alderman Hughes came to mind. " _Hello there, young man_." The old shithead could sure keep a level tone calling the leader of the Saints over the phone. " _This is Alderman Hughes. That was quite a message you sent at Winslow's funeral... and trust me, I heard it loud and clear. Now I'd like to set one thing straight: it was Monroe's plan to strong arm the Saints; personally, I've always thought you and I could have a much healthier relationship. Now we've had a rocky start, yes, but why don't we fix that? Come over to my fundraiser tonight. Julius will be there and, between the three of us, I'm sure we can work something out._ "

Rick knew from jump it was a bad idea to go alone. But, he figured Mayor Hughes was another dumbass politician. No way he'd be smart enough to bring more than one or two guards. But, luckily, the Saint brought his own kind of backup. And it was in the form of his very own twin sister.

Geneviève Valentine (Genn for short) wasn't a part of the Third Street Saints. In fact, she didn't go through the hard hitting initiation like Rick did. She had merely brought herself along for the ride, mainly after she found her brother at the Church and got to meet her idol and new best friend, Aisha. While he told her time and time again to stay out of the Saints business, Genn was a fundamental part in taking out the Rollerz (even though it got her shot and almost killed, to Rick's dismay).

Rick decided to bring her after Johnny didn't pick up his phone, but it was obvious she wasn't as excited as his friend would be at the potential threat.

"I'll be back soon, sis. Just make sure you don't run the motor. Last thing I need is you runnin' down the gas just because 'Bounce Like My Checks' is on the damn radio." Closing the door, he looked back and saw her hands clench tighter on the steering wheel. "What's wrong?"

The red headed girl shook her head, her face hidden beneath her scarlet locks. Knowing his twin, he could tell when she was conflicted. "Nothin'."

"Genn-"

"It's nothin'. Really."

"Your death grip on my car doesn't exactly prove that."

She finally looked up, doe brown irises looking back at the same shade and she tried to smile, but it just came out as a grimace. Sighing, she quits trying to look positive and gave him a look of warning. "Fine. I don't like this, alright? That call you got from Hughes don't sound genuine at all." Watching her brother's mouth open, the younger twin spoke up louder. "And don't say I'm making shit up! I'm telling you, Rick, I feel it in my gut. Somethin' ain't right."

Rick raised a brow. "You think this a set up?"

"I _fucking_ know it's a set up! A yacht in the middle of the goddamn Row, sitting perfectly far away from the shore convenient as fuck? Seems like a perfect place to take someone out, if you ask me."

"Glad I brought you along then, eh?" Seeing his sister didn't share his sense of humor, the older Valentine twin walked around to her side of the car and placed a hand on his sister's shoulder, trying to ease her at least a bit. "Hey, just relax. I'm not gonna be that far. If anything goes sideways, I know you'll see and take care of it."

"I'm over a hundred yards away! On _land_!"

"There's another speedboat on the pier! Just fuckin' hot wire it or somethin'."

"You are the goddamned worst at back up plans."

"Why you think I bring you, smart ass?" Her hands on the steering wheel loosened a little. "Look. We ain't kids, Genie. I can _handle_ this. Alright?" Before she could say anything else, he held his hand up to stop her. "Like I said, until you hear shooting, _stay_ in the _fuckin'_ car."

Genn folded her arms and watched Rick head down to the pier and into his boat, where he soon took off towards the large hunk of white that sat in the middle of the river.

"We ain't kids no more, Genie," she mocked his words bitterly. "I'm the big bad boss of the Saints now. I can handle everything myself! Ugh! If I do hear gunshots, I ain't helping his ass for shit. Believe that!"

* * *

"Your guest is here, Mr. Hughes."

"Thanks Steven, if you don't mind could you wait outside?"

' _We're already outside, dumbass_.' Of course, Rick saved that comment for himself.

He let the butler go by while Hughes finished his drink, placing it down on the glass table and fixing his suit after doing so. Alderman Hughes wasn't an attractive sort - he was as pale as white snow, standing over Ricardo by only a few inches with a receding hairline, a big ass belly, and a partially bald head. Standard for the conservative political types in Saints Row, along with the smug smirk that he was wearing.

"I'm Richard Hughes. It is a pleasure to meet the man who handed me the election." Hughes' pale hand moved forward in front of him, motioning for a hand shake. The leader of the Saints merely folded his arms, refusing to say so much as a word. All he wanted to hear was whether or not his mentor was going to be alright. His eyes darted around the area and, as his sister had predicted, Julius was nowhere to be found.

 _Fuck_. He hated when she was right.

"No need to be modest, I'm being serious." The alderman continued his speech even after the rejection, pulling his hand back and readjusting his tie. "There's no way I could have beaten Marshall Winslow. God rest his soul, but you made the impossible happen, and for that I can't thank you enough."

Rick couldn't help but feel a bit puzzled by that statement. Help him? He was helping Julius, not this prick.

But Hughes continued with a small chuckle, as if he couldn't tell the wavering emotions on the young man's face. "I mean, had Winslow been the only person killed, attention would have definitely been cast on me. But after that fireworks display you pulled at his funeral, it's become abundantly clear that these horrible crimes were perpetrated by the 3rd Street Saints."

And that's when the realization hit Rick. Everything that led up to Winslow's death brought him there, on the yacht with Hughes' fucking smug face. Those deaths didn't benefit the Saints - instead, it benefited a corrupt prick of a politician.

"While before, people criticized my Saint's Row urban renewal plan, it is now being lauded. See, until you came along, I was displacing poor people. Now I'm destroying a hotbed of gang activity." It was then that Hughes finally focused from his speech to Rick, the smirk even more apparent. "What can I say, my boy. The public is fickle... champagne?"

The old man held up a glass to the leader of the Saints, and before the young man even had the thought of smacking the glass right out of Hughes' hand, the alderman tilted it back and drunk the liquid all on his own. Rick felt his world spinning and turning red. How could he have been so blind? So stupid? If Julius was here, he would've deduced this on his own, he was sure of it. And now, because he got too fucking cocky, shit was hitting the fan.

"As you get older..." The mayor placed the empty glass on the small table to his side. "You quickly learn that there are only two types of people in this world...race, money, gender?" He waved it off as if it was nothing. "None of this matters. At the end of the day, you're either a winner or a loser. Now, the sad truth about our situation here is that, in order for me to be a winner, I have to level your neighborhood and salt the earth."

Rick snorted. ' _You wish, you fucking pig_.'

"Hold on just a moment..." Mayor Hughes moved pass Rick to the side of the yacht pass the balcony. "Steven, could you come in here please?"

If Rick wanted to do something, he could do it now. Wait until that shit stain of a butler comes back and then take Hughes hostage with the knife holstered to his thigh. He could get out of here and get back to the others. Figure out a plan to stop this, _there had to be a way_...

"...Now, where was I? Oh yes, salting the earth. I suppose I could just pay you to be quiet, but really? What's the point? You'd just say no, or in your case, stand there looking intimidating and we'd be right back to where we started. So, I figured I'd cut the middle man and get right to the point."

A strained chuckle came out of Rick's mouth, he could tell that the mayor was up to something. "You know, this has all been _enlightening_." Rick moved his hand back to his left pocket, itching for his hidden blade. "Truly. You've been a _gracious_ host, Alderman Nutsack. Despite your empty threats about fucking my people over _and_ threatening my neighborhood. But I've got a date at Freckle Bitch's, and you're holdin' me up." Before he could attempt a shank and run, however, he felt the head of a rifle at his mid back.

Glancing behind him, Rick eyes widened. Hughes' waiter had returned to the deck. And he wasn't alone. Six other goons pointed identical rifles towards his body waiting for the future mayor's orders.

He _really_ fucking hated it when Genn was right.

"I don't think you quite understand the situation," Hughes' voice turned dark and malicious as he refilled his glass of champagne and gave Rick a sinister smile. "You're going to die here, _boy_. Make no mistake about that." Drinking his glass down to the last drop, he sighed. "But, if it makes it any easier for you, I'll be sure to thank you in my acceptance speech."

Fuck, how was he gonna get out of this one? Fighting was pointless, he'd only get riddled with bullets. ' _If I just charge and dive, maybe I'll only get hit once. Just once_.'

Before he could really decide on fight or flight, the mayor was close to deciding for him. "Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a party to atten-"

A rapid succession of beeping began to sound, and Rick's heart froze.

He knew better than anyone what that sound was.

It was a _bomb_.

The same bomb that he's used plenty of times to blow up his crew's enemies.

He only had a few moments - _seconds_ \- but in his mind it was enough time to bail.

He quickly ran past Hughes and grabbed the railing, and was so close to making the jump to safety. But not close enough. The boat blew behind him, and Rick flew from the boat, the tremors and shock waves sending him in a spiral. A searing pain quickly painted his back, his body plunging into the water with a thick slap. He could barely breath, all he could see was the darkness of water.

* * *

_A couple minutes earlier..._

* * *

Genn was jamming out to "Bounce Like My Checks" just as Rick told her not to do, the entire car vibrating to the bass while the young girl began to vogue and move her feet on the dashboard. She didn't know how long this thing was gonna be, and she didn't see why she needed to sit there bored to death. So, she tried to get the paranoia off of her mind and just enjoy herself.

" _Bounce like my checks did, back in the day! Bounce like my checks did, back in the day! Before I got this paper, before I got paid. You know, I had this dreams and to get this way. You can bounce like my checks did, back in the day!_ "

A very solid vibration in her pocket took her out of her groove, however. Pulling out her phone and looking at the caller ID, she grinned and pressed 'Accept'. "Eshaaaaaa! What up, girl?"

" _Hey girl! What's going on-...you're listening to my song on the radio, aren't you_?"

The redhead quickly turned her radio off and cleared her throat, sitting back in her seat. "What? Psh! No! Wh-Why would I be doin' that?" She snorted, checking her sharp red nails. "That...that would be so lame. Completely!" It was hard for her to conceal that she was a big fan of her friend's music. But, then again, who in Saints Row wasn't a fan of Aisha?

" _Uh huh. Sure. Hey, you talk to Troy yet? I forgot to call you about that earlier._ "

Genn instantly flinched the second she heard his name. Troy Bradshaw had managed to get under her skin, in more ways than one. He was so smart and mature and funny - not to mention he did save her twin brother from getting killed on that street corner. He seemed to like her, and Genn listened to Aisha's advice and decided to enter a relationship with him. However, the past few days for them had been...rocky.

He wouldn't cuddle up with her like they used to, and she noticed he started to flinch at her pet names. She tried asking him about it before, but then he had to go and say something stupid like "I think we should take a break".

"Nah. He hasn't called me back since the funeral. He's been acting pretty weird actually." Genn wanted to say 'I'm worried about him', but she couldn't be bothered with that mushy shit. Genn could just head on over to her place and try calling him again.

" _Ah, damn girl. I'm sure it's nothing, he's probably swamped with whatever ya brother gave him. I'm just driving back from Johnny's and girl, was he ever-_ "

"Johnny?" Genn's smile quickly turned into a frown. "What about Johnny?"

There was a slight pause on her friend's end. _"Uh...Genn, we got back together._ "

"Wait wait wait, WHAT? You got BACK together with that asshole? Ugh, Eesh, Gat ain't nothin' but trouble...oh, and he's a dick."

" _Well, he sure does have a big one._ " Genn gave out a high squeak and shook her head furiously.

"EWW! Don't you dare tell me that shit, I don't need that nasty ass image in my mind right now!"

Aisha's laugh filled the young Valentine twin's ear and she just couldn't stay mad. Although, she grimaced now that the imagined image of Johnny Gat's lower region was burned into her mind. " _Anyways, where you at? The night is young and I'm tryin' to have some more fun!_ "

"You know, the whole point of faking your death was to make sure you _aren't_ seen in public."

" _I know, I know. But ain't nobody gonna know it's me! I've got the perfect disguise and everything - as soon as you come back to your apartment, anyways._ "

Genn ran her fingers through her hair and sucked air between her teeth. "Raiding my damn closet again, huh? Well, I'm at the pier waitin' for my brother. Apparently he had some business with that bougie old fuck, Hughes, on his yacht way out there in the water."

" _WHAT?!_ " She quickly pulled the phone away from her ear and rubbed it. Damn, did Aisha have some pipes. " _He went there ALONE_?!"

"If he went there alone, girl, I wouldn't know now would I? I'm waiting in the car for him, but I was tryna tell him that it was a trap."

" _Of course it's a trap! It's a yacht in the middle of the goddamn ROW!"_

"Right! That's what I was say-" Before she could finish, Genn heard the loud boom that came from the water. She could feel the heat pass through the air, and the scorched boat had already begun to sink in the now burning water. Her grip on her cell tightened when Genn remembered _who_ was on that yacht.

"Oh my god! RICK!"

" _Genn?! Genn?! What going on?! What the hell was-_ "

"Aisha, I'll call you back!" The younger Valentine threw her phone in the back seat and jumped out of the car and sped as fast as her legs could take her towards the pier. Jumping into the lone boat and hot wiring was child's play. All it took was a few minutes before she got it started. Pressing down hard on the peddle, she quickly whipped the small cruise towards the burning mess that was once Mayor Hughes' yacht.

The sight before Genn was horrifying; The boat had split into two different parts, but each had been engulfed in flames from the explosion. Bodies had begun to surface from the water and Genn had the unfortunate task of trying to turn them over to check and see which one was her brother. Her shaking hands were touching scorched corpses in haste. It would've been a matter of time before the police had made their way to the scene, and she needed to get to him fast. The red head soon moved her boat over to another body and saw a familiar red dragon tattoo on the person's right shoulder. "No," she shook her head, struggling to pull him into the boat. "No no no no. Oh, please no."

Her hand instantly went to his partially charred neck to check for a pulse. It wasn't strong, but it was there. Half of his clothes had been burned off of his skin, first and second degree burns lining over his body. He was going to have a hell of a lot of scars, but he was in better condition than the other people floating in the bay. Not that she cared about them, all she was worried about was getting him out of there. Genn quickly pressed on the gas and sped the boat back to the pier, cutting off the power as soon as they got there and threw the keys into the water.

If there was any time she wished her brother hadn't been so focused on working out, it would've been then. Pulling him into the boat was hard enough, and pulling him out proved to be the same exact challenge. Small grunts and the occasional drop to the floor made her desperate. She could hear the sirens getting closer now, but they were still many yards away. If only he would wake up, they could still-

A small cough came out of her brother's mouth, and his weight seemed to get heavier. "G-Genn. Is that you?" It was hard to speak at hearing level, even breathing was tough for him.

"Who the hell else would it be, you dick?! Get up!"

His eyes failed to open, or maybe he was just too weak to open them fully. Either way, the sight almost made Genn go into a panic attack. "Genn-"

"Shut up! _Just shut up_!" Angry tears rolled down her cheeks. "What did I say? Huh?! What the fuck did I say was going to happen? God, you never fucking listen to me!"

The police sirens were just heading over the bridge, meaning that they would have been there soon. Hell, in minutes. Rick could hear them faintly, and he knew that there wouldn't be much time. "L-Listen..." His mouth struggled to form the words. He was slipping in and out, more than likely from the blood that he was losing. "H-Head back to the church...call Johnny."

" _Fuck_ Gat! I'm getting you out of here!"

"No...time. Cops-"

"I can make it! I can! I just need you to-" The two fell over before she could finish her sentence. His weight was too heavy for her, and at this rate, they both couldn't make it to the car. Genn knew this, but she didn't want to face the truth. "Fuck! Goddamn it!"

"G-Genn..get... out of..."

"No. No way, I'm not leaving you. You hear me, you dumbass? _I ain't leavin' you here_!" Even though she shook his shoulders, Rick didn't wake up. His eyes were moving beneath his eyelids, but the blood lost ensured that he wouldn't wake up for a while.

"Rick?! Ricardo! Wake up, damn it! Wake up!"

Still no response.

"Fuck! Just... _shit_!"

She stood up, her hands clenching her long red hair hard as she paced around Rick's unconscious body. The shadows of the cops' cars were making their way down towards the pier. She took one more glance at her brother, almost considering staying. Even if it meant jail time.

But all that would do is put them in more trouble than they were in.

She pulled her wet eyes away from the sight, quickly jumping up and zipping over to the red Camaro. She turned the ignition on angrily, speeding off into the night while the tires screech at the sudden jolt.

By the time the cops had made it down to the shore, there was no trace of Genn Valentine ever being there. Only a speedboat with no keys in the ignition, skid marks on a side road, and a young man who was bleeding out on the sand.

* * *

_Two years later..._

* * *

Voices. All around him, as if they were going in and out.

A man and woman's face is over his. The woman is in all white, and she looks shocked. The man in the white coat holds a flashlight towards his eyes, and he hears different things. Things that didn't make sense.

 _Blood pressure still low...long-lasting coma_.

_He's responding to different things now. I want to run some more tests, but he's likely to wake up soon._

_...have to wake up._

He didn't know whether or not these pair of vocals were happening in the same day, or if he was actually going in and out. This feeling felt worse than that hangover he had partying with those blonde hookers at Tee'N'Ay.

The next sound Rick hears is more clear, less disorient. It's the sound of beeping, over to his left side. His head could barely move, but out of the slit in the white cloth that wrapped around his head he could make out a medical monitor beside his bed. His arms are restrained, but it's not like he could move them anyway. They loosened soon, thanks to another woman in white. He could hear her ask for something, but he felt himself get drowsy all over again. The dark was comforting, peaceful even. Like he'd been sleeping for years.

The last time he finally woke up in whatever white shit hole he was in, everything seemed much better. He felt better, in fact. The voices around him were better as well. Unfamiliar, of course, but a lot better to understand than before. ' _Fuck_ ,' he thought, the restrains on his arm feeling as loose as ever. ' _How long was I out_?' A pair of hands soon came over, and the bands came off. He could finally wiggle his fingers around without feeling like his circulation was getting cut off.

He heard more talking, a little away from his bed. "Coming through!"

"What happened?"

"Shanking."

A woman sighs, probably the same woman in white that took care of the restraints. "Put him over there. Sorry about that."

"Has he said anything yet, Doc?"

"Not yet." He heard footsteps coming towards him, and then warm hands touching his face. "But I'm about to take the bandages off..." No sooner than a minute later, bright light greeted his green orbs and he couldn't help but grunt at the uncomfortable adjustment. While he gave the woman a glare for the possible blindness, her calm demeanor didn't seem fazed. "Yes. That looked like it healed nicely."

One of the guards was quick to pull the doctor back when they finally saw the gang leader stir to life. "Careful there, doc. Your patient's dangerous."

His partner was a little less concerned about the doctor, and more so about giving Rick his own glare. "You got anything you wanna say to the judge, you better start thinkin' of it now."

"You're wasting your time." His partner moved back over to him and motioned that it was time for them to leave. "Let's get a hold of Troy."

The trio left Rick to lay back down onto his pillow, shaking his head and still trying to wrap his head around exactly just what the fuck was going on. The last thing he could remember was Hughes and then a beeping noise, like a bomb. He was talking to Genn, he thought, and then he blacked out. Wait, why the fuck did those cops say they needed to get a hold of Troy?

 _That motherfucker...fucking Troy?_ How was that even possible? He felt like he knew this already, but even now at that very moment he was fucking pissed. Perhaps it was a different Troy, but how many white boys in Stilwater got the name Troy? Before he could really act out on his anger, a voice cut into his train of thought.

"Psst! Hey!"

Rick turned his head and saw the hospital curtain get thrown back. A young guy with a purple skullcap on was looking back at him. The kid was wearing orange - so that solved Rick's question to where he was - and a red splotch on his jumpsuit signaled where he had gotten shanked. But the wound didn't seem to matter to him. He was staring at Rick with eyes full of disbelief and wonder. Like he had just won the lottery or something.

"Is it really you?"

"Umm...that depends. Do I know you?" The question came out of Rick's mouth slowly, trying to place this guy in his mind and get used to moving his mouth again. Jesus, he hoped he didn't have amnesia or something.

"Oh, no. I'm Carlos. My brother was in the Saints and he told me all about you." _Oh thank god._ "Listen, we've got to get you out of here."

Rick chuckled, leaning up more on his bed. "Well, I'm sure if we asked nicely, kid."

"I know a way out!"

"Yeah?" Rick raised a brow. "Then why are you still here?"

Carlos quickly answered, "I heard that you were in here and I wanted to bust you out!" His reason didn't help much, since Rick laid back down in the bed and made himself comfortable. A quiet sigh to his side let Rick know that the kid wasn't giving up. "Listen, getting out of here is a two man job and no one else will give it a try."

Rick shot up almost too fast, making Carlos jolt back a little from the irritated look shot his way. "You really expect me to trust some guy I don't even know?"

"Oh, come on! I just got myself shanked so I could get a chance to talk to you!" He pointed to his orange jumpsuit, which was stained with blood but Rick saw that the wound was covered by a thick gauze. "Doesn't that show I'm loyal?"

"It shows that you're dumb enough to let yourself get stabbed."

The younger man finally seemed to have enough of Rick's attitude, his lips pursing up. "I'm tryna help you!"

Rick sat up fully, his hands moving to crack each of his knuckles while he grunted, "You know what I got the last time I trusted someone? Blown the fuck up."

Carlos pressed the matter. "You need me."

"The hell I do! I got the Saints!"

Carlos' small little chuckle didn't help Rick's slow rising temper. "Sure you do." The sarcasm was strong in this one.

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" Rick growled quietly.

"How long do you think you've been out?"

The Boss took in a deep breath and let it all out through his nose, trying to think back. "I-I don't know, man," he answered honestly. "Two, maybe three weeks?" The look on Carlos' face told him otherwise. Rick didn't like admitting when he didn't know shit, and the next words that were gonna come flying out of Carlos' mouth weren't gonna make him feel any better about it.

"Look," Carlos started. "I know you think you're a bad ass, but do you even know where you're at? Without me, you'll be wandering around the prison for hours. Even if you manage to hide from the guards that long, and if you actually figure out how to make it outside these walls, you're just gonna find out that you're sitting on a goddamn island. And I'm pretty sure you can't out swim the coast guard."

 _Smart kid_.

"You got a boat stashed here somewhere?"

"No." Carlos smiled mischievously. "But I know where we're gonna steal one."

 _Okay, I take that back_.

Weighing his options, Rick really didn't see any other way he was going to get out of this jam. So fuck it, this kid's idea had to at least work half way. "...Alright, little man. Let's get out of here."

The eldest of the two inmates swung his legs out of the bed and stood tall, kicking his limbs out and stretching them to get the flow back into his system. The last thing he needed was to get a cramp on his way out of the pin, and it felt good to be out of that hospital bed and ready to raise some hell. Maybe it was the urgent thought of getting out of this hell hole that allowed him to not worry so much about the swift nausea that overcame him for a moment, but it would pass eventually. Making his way around the curtain, he spotted a doctor.

The poor man didn't even have a chance to turn around before his neck snapped, the doctor's body crumbling to the floor without a sound.

"Jesus!" Carlos' cry didn't really surprise the Boss, but he didn't really think on it much. The goal was to get out, and as quietly as possible. No witnesses. No point in hiding the body - he wanted everyone to know that he was awake and he was _pissed_.

"There's a back door to this place, right?"

"Y-Yeah," Carlos nodded and pointed towards the access door. "There's a door to the rooftop over-"

He didn't have to tell Rick twice. The gangster quickly kicked it open and moved forward, Carlos speeding up to go past him and lead his new found partner to the way out. He had to get out of there and it had to happen now. It seemed that the infirmary was out-of-date, the rooftop access door leading the duo to that of a room filled with pipes and air ducts. ' _Didn't think I'd have to go climbing so early_ ,' Rick thought watching his younger companion begin to make his way up the cooling system.

"I can't believe I'm breaking out of jail with you!" Carlos exclaimed. While the kid was in front of him, Rick could hear the grin in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah," the elder man grunted. "Just stay focused. Don't need you fallin' out on me."

"Right, of course."

A short pause came and Rick was pleased that the silence could continue.

"So! You remember my brother?"

Or not.

"Barely." Seeing the kid's face fall, Rick rolled his eyes and sighed. "But...you know...he was probably alright. Most Saints were."

Carlos nodded. "He was shot down by the Samedi a while ago."

 _The Samedi_? Rick didn't know about any Samedi. A new gang? "My condolences."

The two jail birds managed to make it to the ladder leading up to the roof, Rick letting Carlos hang back for this next part in the breakout plan. Climbing up the hole, Rick tightened his face as he crouched towards the oblivious guard. It was too late for the would be guardsman as the Saint wrapped his burly arm around his neck, smirking at the sound of whining and choking before the dead guard crumbled to the ground. Luckily, the searchlight missed this deadly act by a few meters.

A light whistle signaled for Carlos to join his partner up on the roof, catching Rick taking a gun and nightstick from the corpse (as well as his wallet.)

"Alright, kid. Where to now?"

' _I wish he would stop calling me kid_.' Carlos thought for a moment, looking up at the searchlights. "Okay, now!" The two quickly darted along the rooftop, ducking into cover the second another spotlight came shining at them. This went on for several minutes - Rick having to knock out guards while simultaneously dodging big ass lights that could land him back in the slammer with the little guy who decided to have the cojones to bust him out.

Th two escapees finally crouched down from the roof's staircase and hid behind a dumpster. Looking over the lid, they saw that the way to the docks led outside of the prison complex. Unfortunately, so did a whole squad of security guards that stood at the exit. Rick growled. "Of fucking course. Now what, brains?"

The younger of the two pouted, but instantly calculated a new plan of action. "Alright, I have an idea, but it's gonna be a lot of effort. First things first, we'll have to go back up to the roof and steal some guards' clothes. Then, when no one's really paying attention, we use our disguises to get past the squad. They're more than likely dumb as hell and don't get that well of a pay grade, so just keep your head low and speak in grunts if they try and talk to you. Once we get to the docks, we throw off the disguises and sail off into the sunset!"

"You mean the moonlight?"

"Same difference."

Rick sighed, but figured that it was a plan. "Bloody hell. Alright then, let's head back and-"

A loud alarm screeched into the starry night, blaring for all that resided on the island that there were convicts on the loose.

"...or we could just run to the docks now while they're not looking!" Carlos grinned at Rick. A faint smirk came from the Boss's lips, a large hand slapping down and ruffling the skullcap Carlos was wearing.

"You think too much, kid. Let's hope Lady Luck's got a few more bits she can spare." They sprinted across the empty yard towards the gates, knowing that time was running against them. Those guards may have been stupid and slow, but they could catch up if they're given the space to. The tattooed coma patient almost felt his knees give out as they reached the stairs down to the speedboats, but pressed on. He could sit his ass down when they got into the craft. The duo sprinted across the sand, jumping up into the lone boat as quickly as they could.

"You know how to drive this thing?" Rick asked, slipping onto the right bench of the white boat in silent relief. Carlos went over to the boat controls and surveyed the switches and buttons. "Uh, yeah! It's like driving a car!" The purple skull capped driver started the ignition and pressed the lever forward, the duo making their getaway as the jail alarms began to fade with each passing second. Rick began to inspect his body as the wind billowed through his curly, auburn hair.

That nurse from earlier was right - his scars did heal pretty nicely. There were pale patches from what he could make out on the right side of his face, almost symmetrically aligned with each other. He only imagine how the rest of his body looked, since he vaguely remembers where he was hit when the boat exploded.

The boat...that bastard Hughes... _his sister crying_...police sirens all around him. The memories play over and over like a haunting video that just wouldn't stop. His foot bounced on the floor of the boat, his anxiety finally unnerving him. At least Carlos wasn't looking his way.

"How long have I been out?"

"Huh? How long? Good question!" Carlos wasn't sure if he should be the one to tell him or if anyone he knew should. But, he figured the Boss needed to know some info before they got back to the city. "You've been out for...uh, two years!"

"Two years?! I've been in a coma for _two_ years? Jesus, Mary and Joseph..." Rick didn't get a response from Carlos, but he could tell from the reflection of the boat's side mirror that the kid was frowning. "I suppose that wasn't suppose to be a joke?"

Carlos chuckled darkly. "Trust me. If I was joking, you'd know. I'm pretty good at those. But this definitely ain't one."

Rick stood up and stuffed his hands in his pocket, going to the bow of the boat to just stare into the dark water. "Two fucking years...I missed two years of my life? Fuck me, I'm fucking 23 now." He had probably missed out on so much ass, it was going to bother him for a while. But he figured he could always catch up. First, he'd call up Keisha, then Tyler, then-

His train of thought stopped as his wandering eyes caught onto the horizon. Where his familiar small urban town once stood, there had erupted a large city with towering skyscrapers and bright lights. Rick was flabbergasted - where did all of this come from? How? This came to be in merely two years since he was gone?

_Unbe-fucking-lievable!_

"Is that the Row?"

"What's left of it." Rick could hear the bitter tone of the little man's voice, and sure enough there was a frown on Carlos' face.

"Jesus," Rick looked at all of the bright lights and tall buildings once again, to be sure it wasn't a dream. "When did this happen?"

"When Ultor got involved." Carlos stated, his irritated tone growing more apparent.

"The fuckin' clothing company?" _You gotta be shitting me_. Exactly how much had changed since he was out?

"After Hughes was killed in that bombing of yours, Ultor picked up the pieces. Now they're everywhere...on TV, on billboards, in stores..." Carlos snorted, "Hell, if you ever forget who Ultor is - just look towards Saints Row and you'll see that fuckin' eye sore..." He threw an arm out and pointing towards the tallest skyscraper in the middle of the city. The building was clearly designed by Ultor, based off of its colors and the new age appearance. To Rick, it didn't match with his town. It didn't feel...right. He felt his fists tightened at the sight.

He had to do something about this.

Carlos drove the boat closer to the docks. "Here we are."

Carlos's announcement took the Saints' leader out of his thoughts, the boat slowly coming to dock in the mainland. Ricardo jumped out and began to stretch his arms and legs, finally feeling comfortable in his own muscles for the first time since he woke up. "Hey, kid," he called to Carlos as the younger man started to walk away fiddling with his cap.

"Dude! I'm 20, can you stop calling me kid?!"

"Where can I find the other Saints?" Rick ignored the plea.

Carlos sucked his teeth, grimacing. "What other Saints?"

"What the hell does that mean, mate?"

"Without anyone to lead 'em, the Saints fell apart," Carlos explained, Rick's face growing darker as he went on. "Once the Brotherhood, Ronin, and Samedi showed up the few that were left dropped their flags before they got killed..."

"Well that's fuckin' great..." Rick threw his hands up and stomped up the wooden stairs side-by-side his temporary jail companion. This was a lot to take in.

What had happened to Dex? Johnny? To Genn? Jesus, how did they loose the crew?

"Look, I know you didn't ask for it, but my advice is to just keep your head down...the cops are looking for you and a lot's changed, I say you just go buy a beer and soak up as much information as you can."

Rick put his hand on Carlos' shoulder, looking down at him with a tight smile. "Thanks ki-...Carlos."

Carlos smiled back, but with more warmth and appreciation. "Anytime! Listen, I got to run, but if you need anything? I'll be there."

And, as fast as Rick seemed to meet him, Carlos was jogging off out of the docking yard to who knows where. Rick stared up at the city before him, a frown setting in. He was going to fix things. He was going to get back his crew, find Gat and his twin, and set things in his city right.

But first, he needed to change out of these prison clothes.


End file.
